


Red Bow

by Ceeahrr



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceeahrr/pseuds/Ceeahrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is set in the world created for “Fool Yourself,” where Erica is a law professor and Franky is a law student. It’s a one-off, though, and doesn’t really fit inside the timeline of the other story. Inspired by Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Bow

They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, on a bench outside Seven Seeds coffee shop, enjoying their cuppa and people watching. It was a beautiful early fall day. Franky wore a sleeveless white tee, black jeans and very girly open toe sandals. Usually she wore something stylish but practical on her feet. More business or sport than cute. But Erica had taken her for a girls' afternoon at the spa as an early birthday gift, and they’d both had a mani-pedi. She was a little embarrassed to admit she enjoyed the pampering, and was enjoying displaying her colorful, neatly clipped nails and shapely feet.  
  
Erica crossed her legs and focused on Franky instead of the passing throng. “You know, I never actually asked you what you wanted for your birthday.” Franky’s birthday was February 13th. Erica knew she was flirting with danger. This was why she had proactively chosen the spa day as a gift. Franky’s birth date was too close to Valentine’s day for the professor to be asking an open-ended question like this, but she couldn’t help herself. The younger woman seemed to inspire her to walk on the wild side. Especially when she was being calm, relatively quiet, and not driving the professor nuts. Like right now. “Is there anything you really want?”  
  
Franky arched an eyebrow as she turned to look at the blonde. _Are you seriously asking me this?_ “What I want, Erica Davidson, is you. Naked. In bed. With a very big red bow tied around your middle.”  
  
As expected, the blush started near the older woman’s collarbone and worked it’s way quickly up to her hairline.  
  
“I should have known better,” she rolled her eyes. “Is there anything you want that I can actually do for you, Franky?”  
  
The student let out an exaggerated sigh. “Doesn’t ‘almost divorced’ mean you can have sex with someone other than your almost ex?”  
  
“Alright,” she said, standing up. “I have things to do. Break time is over. Let me know if you come up with something that doesn’t involve either of us taking our clothes off.”  
  
Franky caught her hand before she could walk off in a huff. She stood, continuing to hold Erica’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “Okay, okay. I think my brain will explode if you ever do actually stop pretending to be a prude, Miss Davidson.” She tried to look serious. Almost succeeded. But then something occurred to her.  
  
She squeezed Erica’s hand. “Let me make dinner for you.”  
  
Erica blinked in surprise. “Franky, I can’t possibly come to your flat…”  
  
“At your place.”  
  
She and Mark were in the middle of a messy divorce, and he hadn’t yet moved house. She owned the flat — it was not part of their communal property — so he would have to go eventually. But he hadn’t seemed to be in a hurry about it and she felt too guilty about the break-up to push him out.  
  
“I can’t, Franky. Mark is still there.”  
  
“Doesn’t he ever go out? Tell him you’d like to have a guest.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” her eyes widened, imagining what was likely to happen after a couple glasses of wine if she was home alone with Franky. She definitely wasn’t ready for that.  
  
They had shared some heated kisses over the past six months but Erica wanted to resolve things with Mark, have him out of her life, before she put energy into trying to figure out what… things… might look like with the devastatingly charming and beautiful young woman. The heat between them was extremely carnal. Erica could only imagine them having furious sex for a couple, few months, and then tiring of one another. They were, in most other things, completely different. Socially. Economically. They ran in totally different circles — had different goals in life. _When are you going to stop lying to yourself? You're in love with her! Admit it!_  
  
“Come on, Erica,” Franky pleaded. She was serious about this. “I swear I won’t try anything. Just food and a nice bottle of wine,” she cocked her head to the side.  
  
“You know what happens when we’re alone together, Franky. What do you think is likely to be the result of an entire evening in a flat with three different beds? And a sleeper lounge?” Her mouth curved into a half smile.  
  
Franky’s smile was blinding. “Hah! You don’t know how happy it makes me to know you think about it.” Erica blushed again. “But we can do this. I promise to be good. I mean, we can kiss though, right? Just kissing. Nothing else. I swear it, Erica. Please let me cook for you.”  
  
_I cannot believe I’m actually considering this._   _It's because you're in love with her, you idiot. And you are tired of saying no._ The idea was extremely appealing though. Having Franky to herself for an evening. Watching her cook. Maybe sharing some sweet kisses on the lanai. But Mark would never, ever go for this. Franky didn’t know, but she was part of the reason for the divorce.  
  
The younger woman watched the gears turning. _What could possibly be the barrier. Why the fuck would Mark care if she had a female guest for dinner and wanted some privacy?_ “Tell him to get a life until midnight. We’ll start at eight and I’ll be gone before you turn into a pumpkin. Okay?”  
  
Erica found herself nodding before she’d actually thought the thing through. She then closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing she was going to do this even though it was probably a really bad idea. Surely they would end up in bed. Mark would walk in on them. The divorce would get uglier. “Okay, Franky,” she said quietly. “But nothing can happen. My divorce is already horrific. If Mark gets any more spiteful about this, us…”  
  
_Ohhhh. World not revolving around you getting into Erica’s knickers, Doyle. And she told him about 'us.'_ She put one hand under Erica’s chin forcing her to look up, make eye contact. “I promise. I would never do anything to hurt you. Stop looking like you’re walking the gauntlet here. It’s my birthday and you would be making me very, very happy.”  
  
Erica did smile fully then. That she was pleasing Franky warmed her heart. And other parts of her body. Then she remembered they were in the middle of campus holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes.  
  
She cleared her throat and stepped back, letting go of the younger woman’s hand. “All right, Franky.”  
  
“Why don’t we meet at a market near your flat at 7:30, get some groceries then we can go from there?”  
  
“Fine,” she said moving in the direction of her office before she asked any more insane questions. Or made some other completely unfeasible commitments to Franky Doyle.  
  
“Think about what you want to eat.” Franky called after the professor’s swiftly retreating form.  
  
Erica didn’t turn but she blushed. She heard the unspoken comment there and was actually relieved to realize the younger woman hadn’t said it out loud. _Think about what you want to eat. Besides me._  
  
********************************  
  
Erica keyed open the door to her 10th floor St. Kida flat and held it for Franky. They each balanced an overfull sack of groceries as well as their school gear.  
  
“Shoes off here,” Erica said, kicking off her sling-backs, dropping her satchel and taking the other bag from Franky so she could remove her shoes.  
  
The flat was open concept. Straight ahead was a dining table, then kitchen with informal eating area. To the right a lounge area off of which there was a lanai and a closed door at the far end. To the left, a hallway which clearly held several more rooms.  
  
Franky whistled. “Posh, Miss Davidson.” She surreptitiously watched Erica circling the island in the kitchen, trying to keep it between herself and her date for the evening. Franky nonchalantly approached the sliding glass leading to the lanai. “Oi! A little view, reckon?” She looked back over her shoulder to find her dinner mate.  
  
Erica was as far away from her in the kitchen as she could possibly be without leaving the room. She looked like a scared bunny. Franky laughed. “Erica.”  
  
“Hmmm?”  
  
“Come over here.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Franky started toward her and Erica backed up against the refrigerator.  
  
“Erica,” she said more softly.  
  
“Franky,” the older woman answered, giving her a nervous smile.  
  
“I promised, didn’t I?”  
  
Erica nodded.  
  
“Will you come here? Tell me about this view? Where exactly are we?” This was a pretty schmancy neighborhood and Franky had never been to this part of the harbor before, even though she was an avid beach-goer and swimmer. “Is this a public beach?”  
  
Erica approached slowly. Franky held out her hand until the professor was close enough to take it. Which she did. Franky gently drew her over to the screen door and then, without warning, slipped her arms around Erica’s waist and kissed her. Very softly at first — it was meant to be a calming connection. Just to get it out of the way. De-escalate the anticipation effect. It took no time for Erica to sink into it, losing herself in the warm velvet that was Franky’s mouth and tongue. But not frantic, heated, desperate this time. Gentle, probing. Then over too soon for Erica and she gasped.  
  
Franky pressed their foreheads together. “Just need to take the edge off sometimes. OK?” She still held Erica in the circle of her arms.  
  
Erica rubbed her cheek against Franky’s, nodding. She managed to say, “OK,” into Franky’s ear, and then Franky let her go.  
  
She opened the screen door and stepped out, beckoning Erica after her.  
  
And just like that Erica’s nervous tension was completely gone. She leaned on the railing next to the student  and described the beach and the neighborhood comfortably, as if they talked like that there every day.  
  
They’d decided on shrimp scampi with artichokes over pasta — something simple so that they could really talk and enjoy each other’s company without Franky slaving over the stove the whole night. She enlisted Erica as her sous chef for salad preparation, but only for a few minutes before her lack of knife skills so scandalized the younger woman that Erica was banished to a stool at the island with a glass of wine. While Franky finished the cooking, they continued to talk while Erica assembled the salad and set the table.  
  
After dinner, Erica cleared the table and dishes while Franky chose a movie to watch. She was surprised to see _Bound_ in the Pearson’s DVD collection. But then again, not so much. She grinned at the thought of Erica and Mark watching that together, and decided on something much more innocuous. She was determined to keep her promise to not entice the professor into sex. She pulled out the film that she was more surprised to see in the Pearson collection than _Bound_. Surprised and unexpectedly tickled.  
  
Erica joined her on the lounge eventually, bringing a fresh bottle of wine. Franky handed her the remote and she sat, her hip pressed against the younger woman’s. Franky put her arm around Erica’s shoulder, pleased when she leaned into the embrace.  
  
Erica pressed the ‘play’ button. And then practically choked on the drink of wine she’d just taken. She sat up coughing and laughing. _Puss in Boots?_ "Not exactly a date movie, Franky,” she was still laughing.  
  
Franky laughed with her. “Come on. Antonio Banderas as a cheeky kitty in boots? And Penelope Cruz as Kitty Soft Paws? Perfect date movie.”  
  
“Well, I’m Kitty Soft Paws,” she settled back in, curled up against Franky’s side. She was trying to be cool but she was in heaven. Franky had been so gentle and kind and funny all evening. Not pushy or aggressive. Very debonair, actually. It was all she could do not to purr.  
  
“Obviously I’m Puss.” Franky was about to crawl out of her skin. But she had promised. And it was working. Erica was totally relaxed. If she was right, in about an hour, Miss Davidson was going to start to unravel. Once she realized nothing was actually going to happen, that Franky wasn’t going to try to seduce her, she would get jumpy and nervous again. Despite her protests to the contrary, the professor did want something to happen. Franky was damn sure of that.  
  
It was actually only 45 minutes before Erica started getting antsy. She leaned forward and put her wine glass on the table. Several minutes later she reached for it again, both times snuggling herself a little closer to Franky. After a third time she was practically in the younger woman’s lap. It was driving Franky batshit but she had promised. She kept her hands to herself, except for the one arm draped casually around the professor’s shoulder, which she repositioned every time Erica moved.  
  
Finally Erica sprang up. “I gotta pee. Don’t move. Except maybe find us one more glass of wine.” She skipped toward the hallway where the bathroom was.  
  
_I gotta get out of here before my nuts explode,_ Franky thought as she stood up, secured the wine glasses and went to the kitchen. She decided to just fill Erica’s glass. She would need to go soon. No desire to chug a fifth glass of wine and leave. Erica could drink all night if she wanted too. She didn’t have to drive.  
  
Erica wasn’t drunk. She’d spaced her drinks — well except for that last one — out generously across the evening. Plus they had a very filling meal. She wasn’t even tipsy, exactly, but her inhibitions had definitely left the building. She had been so impressed with Franky’s control, her lack of overt sexual commentary or even slick petting, that by the time the film was winding down Erica was getting frustrated waiting for Franky to make some sort of move. She didn’t want the out-of-control frantic pawing and nearly-having-sex thing that happened to them before. She did want to get some action tonight.  
  
When she’d excused herself to go to the restroom, she’d replayed the conversation with Mark about having Franky come for dinner and him leaving them alone at least until midnight.  
  
_“You’re actually serious,” he laughed bitterly. “You want to bring the woman who has broken up this marriage into our home. Before the ink is even dry.” He stood up from the stool at the kitchen island where he’d been sitting reading and eating a sandwich when Erica approached him about this. “You are un-fucking-believable.” He walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer._  
  
_“Franky has nothing to do with our marriage falling apart. That’s down to me and you, Mark. Don’t you dare blame her.”_  
  
_“Now you want to bring her here so she can fuck you in our bed.”_  
  
_“Mark…”_  
  
_“If she hasn’t already. Why don’t you just admit it, Erica?”_  
  
_“Because it’s not true, Mark. I wouldn’t do that to you.”_  
  
_He got up in her face then. “WHY CAN’T YOU STOP FUCKING LYING FOR THREE SECONDS!”_  
  
_She felt iron in her spine as spittle from his yelling landed on her cheek. She stared defiantly at him, her eyes steel blue. “I have never. Had sex. With Franky,” she said quietly. “And as badly as I want to, it won’t be Friday night. I would never disrespect you that way.” She saw his hand twitch — the one that didn’t hold the beer. “And if you ever lay a hand on me again I will have you charged and jailed.” She’d had to call in sick one day to give the last hand-print time to recede enough that it could be covered with make-up._  
  
_He stepped back. Erica usually resorted to lies and evasions when confronted with uncomfortable truth. But she was sick of this. Ready to get on with her life._  
  
_“The fact that neither of us knew what it meant to love someone, be in love, is about you and me, Mark. No one else. We just exist next to one another because we are an attractive couple with similar backgrounds. Can you even tell when I have an orgasm?”_  
  
_He took another step back, his aggression dialed down considerably. “Uhhh…”_  
  
_“You can’t. Don’t lie, I know you don’t even pay attention. Because the last time you made me come was in the first year of our marriage.”_  
  
_He took another step back, looking ashamed and embarrassed now._  
  
_“We are pathetic together. You wouldn’t know an authentic emotion if it bit you in the arse,” she continued. “But I do now. Because of Franky Doyle. She is frightening. And loyal. And brilliant. And gorgeous. And dangerous. And ambitious. And incredibly tender at times.” She took Mark’s beer and drank from it. “She sees completely through my lies and makes me be honest. Especially when it hurts.” She closed her eyes and took another pull from the beer remembering their first heated grappling when she was governor. When she realized everything with Mark was a lie but pushed on with him anyway. “And she makes me wet my knickers with a single kiss. I don’t know if that’s relationship material. Or if it’s a couple of fucks and done. But it’s more than this,” she gestured between the two of them with the beer. “That’s why I’m leaving this marriage. And you will find something else to do until midnight on Friday so I can have my hot lesbian crush over for her birthday.”_  
  
_She turned and walked towards the master bedroom. Just before she closed the door she called back over her shoulder: “And I want you out of here by the end of the month.” That was still several weeks away. But it was progress. She had called him to the carpet, finally. Told her truth._  
  
It was after eleven and her hot lesbian crush had only kissed her once the entire evening. And that was ‘to take the edge off.’ Well, her edge was razor sharp about now. And after the dumb shit Mark had pulled with her about having this time with Franky, she was going to do everything but have sex with the younger woman. _He actually acted like he was going to hit me again. That stupid testosterone tirade. What an arse._ She left the bathroom determined to have some very sexy time with her soon-to-be lover. Empowered by the freedom of letting go of her guilt about Mark Pearson. They were both at fault. It wasn’t Erica’s shame alone.  
  
As she returned to the lounge area Erica came from the hallway and approached confidently. Franky held out the glass of wine.  
  
“Look, Erica, it’s late. I should…”  
  
Erica took the glass, sipped from it, and pushed against Franky’s chest. “Sit down,” she commanded.  
  
Franky sat.  
  
She finished off her glass of wine in one long drink and then sat herself. By placing one knee on each side of Franky’s hips and settling into the younger woman’s lap.  
  
She put her arms around Franky’s neck. It seemed she was going to say something. Actually she had prepared something a bit cocky and provocative, a little ditty about reward for good behavior. But she was just loose enough from the wine that she dispensed with that step and instead just kissed her, pushing her tongue immediately against Franky’s lips. Diving into Franky’s mouth.  
  
Franky inhaled deeply as she kissed Erica back, squeezing her bum, leaning into it. The older woman had caught her off guard. Franky had expected more boner-inducing rubbing of breasts on arm or… just more of the Kitty Soft Paws approach. Not this aggressive, demanding hotness. She moaned and then tried to gain the upper hand by turning their bodies and laying down on top of Erica, placing one hand behind her head and the other on her waist. That was how she realized that the blonde had come back from her biology break with her blouse conveniently untucked from her slacks.  
  
_Oh man. You are such a bad girl, Miss Davidson. You won’t even be angry if we do end up fucking tonight. But dammit, I don’t think we have time._  
  
When Franky’s hand caressed the bare skin of her belly, then slid around to her back, Erica whimpered and wrapped both legs around Franky’s waist, arching into her. The hand made it’s way back around to her front, slowly pushing toward her breast. Then the younger woman was cupping her, rubbing a thumb across her nipple which became painfully erect instantly.  
  
She pulled back from the kiss. “Jesus, Franky.” She turned her head away and let the younger woman have her neck while she focused on the way it felt to have that hand on her breast massaging there, teasing the tip. Mark had never done this to her, made her feel this wanton; this wanted. She put her hand on top of Franky’s, urging her to squeeze harder.  
  
Now Franky pulled back, Erica’s hand reluctantly disentangling from brunette locks. “Do you want me to stop?”  
  
“No,” she said, her eyes feverish. “Definitely no.” She reached for Franky again.  
  
But she sat back on her knees, needing her own space for a few seconds. _Does she have any idea how much of a tease she is? And Mark is a an IDIOT._ “Miss Davidson,” Franky started.  
  
“Yes,” she said looking up into green fire. She loved the way Franky was looking at her right now. Possessive. Hungry. Her center began to throb. She bit her lip suggestively.  
  
“Jesus,” Franky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Exactly how far are you going to let me take you tonight?”  
  
Erica smiled. “I already said.”  
  
“I know. No sex. But that’s not what your mouth was saying against mine a couple of minutes ago. Or your legs. Around my waist. That little grind is a bit much, babe.”  
  
Erica bared her teeth. “I can’t promise I can stop it. But no one takes any clothes off. Not a thing.” She was, unfortunately, still committed to not having sex outside her marriage. _Is this cheating? If he knows, and we’ve made the decision to split, is this wrong?_ She didn’t give a shit right now. She reached for Franky again.  
  
Franky trapped her hands beside her head, leaning over her. Erica tightened her legs about the younger woman’s waist. She relaxed against her, let go the hands and unbuttoned the top button on her blouse.  
  
Erica let her.  
  
She moved on to the second one.  
  
Erica chewed her lip.  
  
A third one and when she looked up to make eye contact, the older woman slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss, their tongues tangling, dueling. Erica wanted the upper hand but Franky dominated her, then pulled away looking down at her nearly naked torso. She pushed the shirt open now that it was completey unbuttoned, exposing the lacy purple silk bra. The hard nipples poking the thin fabric. She drew her fingers up from the top of Erica’s slacks, across her the smooth, firm plane of her abdomen, stopping between her breasts. It had a front clasp.  
  
Franky smiled, then brought herself back to eye level as she fingered that clasp. “God you’re beautiful Erica,” she said, leaning in for another kiss as she toyed with the bra. Technically everyone still had all their clothes on. Was Erica going to let her do this? She picked at it, twisting but then froze. Was that a dog barking?  
  
Erica pulled back from the kiss. “Okay. Okay.” She covered Franky’s hand between her breasts to stop the bra from falling open. Her hips twitched against Franky. “It’s time. That’s the timer. You have to go.”  
  
Franky looked at her in disbelief. Then down at their hands. Then her gaze travelled further to Erica’s flat, smooth belly. She was trembling. “Oh fuck, Erica! Come on,” she whined pressing kisses to the tops of her breasts. “You have to be kidding me.”  
  
The professor put her hands in the student’s hair, loving the feel of it against her fingers. Loathe to let her go. “I wish I was, love. He’s probably standing out there now, counting down the minutes.”  
  
“Let him stand,” Franky looked up at her mischievously, her tongue on the clasp. Then she leaned up for another kiss, pressing herself hard against Erica's sex. “There’s so many things we can do with our clothes on,” she said against her mouth.  
  
Erica shivered then and closed her eyes, her brow bunching in frustration at the same time as she pushed Franky up and off of her. “Whose stupid idea was it to watch a movie?” She pulled the younger woman from the lounge, then swiped her mobile on the side table to get it to stop barking.  
  
Franky’s arms were immediately around her waist, her hands stroking the bare skin of her back as she kissed her again. “We’ll know better next time.”  
  
Erica walked them around the lounge toward the front door, still kissing. Finally Erica pulled those tantalizing hands from her over-heated skin and tried to pull out of the kiss. Mark would there any minute now. Franky’s hands cupped her face and she drank of her hungrily.  
  
There was a clicking sound. Like a door opening? Closing? But Franky didn’t stop. She knew Mark had entered. Now she was making a point. _She’s mine you STUPID FUCK._ Then she ended the kiss, standing defensively in front of Erica, blocking her exposed torso.  
  
Erica fought the urge to giggle. _As if he hasn’t seen my body._ But was thankful for few seconds the butch-fest in front of her was allowing so that she could quickly rebutton her blouse and regain some composure. Then she stepped in front of Franky pushing her away from Mark — they were all in too close a proximity to one another in front of the door. Mark’s face was red but he didn’t seem angry. It was sadness. Even humiliation. Franky was bristling, but cool as a cucumber.  
  
“You need to go, Franky.”  
  
Mark stared at Erica for a moment, as if he didn’t recognize her, but said nothing as he walked past them toward the guest bedroom.  
  
Franky encircled her waist from behind, pushing her hands up under the blouse again, kissing her neck. “You are so delicious,” she murmured, nibbling the skin under her lips.  
  
Erica groaned, pushing one hand behind her into Franky’s hair, pressing her harder against her neck. She knew what Mark was thinking. And he was right. He didn’t recognize her. She was in love. “You’re driving me insane,” she gasped. She was already addicted to the way her body responded to Franky’s caresses, her kisses. Her center was pounding. She ached inside, wanting the younger woman to touch her, kiss her everywhere. Nothing Mark had ever done to her made her feel like this. Not even close. She pulled Franky’s mouth down hard, kissing her again.  
  
Franky moved her hands higher until she cupped both Erica’s breasts. She whimpered, pushing herself harder into Franky’s palms. _Oh god. She’s perfect. And never been properly fucked in her life. I’m going to bust a nut here or something. Stop this, Doyle!_  
  
Erica marveled again at her body’s reaction before she realized she was about to lose control entirely. An image of herself pulling Franky into her bedroom right now flashed in her brain. Then her bare breasts in Franky’s hands. She wrenched her mouth from the former inmate’s, squeezed the hands against her chest and pushed Franky away from her. “Get out,” she grinned wickedly.  
  
Franky opened the door but then turned around.  
  
Erica pointed. “Out. Now.”  
  
She came forward pulling something out of her back pocket. It was a long red ribbon, which she proceeded to tie around Erica’s waist just above her slacks, ending it in a big sloppy bow. Then backed out. “Next time I come here we _are_ fucking.”  
  
Erica nodded her head. No blushing blonde this time. She was energized with this guilt-free snog session with Franky Doyle. She loved the way Franky made her  feel. She stepped into the doorway watching her soon-to-be lover walk backwards down the corridor. “Happy birthday,” she said, pleased with the bow. It would be a nice memento from their first real date.  
  
Franky’s million watt grin appeared. The one that got to Erica every time. “Best one ever, Miss Davidson.”  
  
Finis


End file.
